“The deadly bacterial infection spread to my heart. The machine next to my bed started beeping wildly. I remember the fluorescent lights burning my eyes. The beeps kept getting louder, louder. My mother flew over, piling blankets over me. Though my mother was not calm this time, I breathed her in. That’s all I remember. No pain.”

“During birth, the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. In order to save my life, the doctor had to act fast. My mom’s tailbone was broken. Then like any other mom, she diligently looked over my body and immediately noticed a hole above my own tailbone. The doctors told her, ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’ But at 7 days old, I had a temperature of 104 degrees. As I grew, so did the tumor. It tightly wrapped around my bladder and kidneys, slowly killing me.”

“My high-school sweetheart cheated on me, then dumped me. My friends couldn’t cope with my ‘new normal’ and turned away. I didn’t want to be different. My body was thin, my face swollen. I looked like an alien. Minutes later, he pointed to a black hole of goo where my lungs should’ve been. I frantically tried to make it to the break room but blacked out.”

“When I got back nurses and doctors were running in his room, yelling ‘code blue!’ I wasn’t allowed in the room – they were intubating him. I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. I was sobbing.”

“She screamed in pain whenever her head was turned. Her neck was stiff, rigid. The ER doctor called me. I nearly spit out my drink. ‘What?!’ This was almost a myth. What in the world was it doing in my office—heck, in my city?”